For an anon on Tumblr, who asked me "What about a fic where angela overhears shelagh and patrick in the bedroom?" Here we go! I'd like to call this 'beasts in the bedroom' ;). There is only implied steam, though, so never fear.
Angela had the firm belief, like most children of her age, that her room harboured a vast array of monsters.
Her closet didn't close properly, and she was sure that she could see beady eyes regard her on some evenings. The thing that lived in the space between her dresses sometimes clicked its claws, or released a hungry rumble, waiting for the right moment to strike. She had to move past the closet if she wanted to reach her bedroom door. On nights when the glittering eyes regarded her, she would huddle under the sheets with Cuthbert, too afraid to go and get her parents, and too scared to call out for them. The monster was quick, after all, and would reach her before her parents ever could.
She had taken to placing her chair against the closet so it would stay shut. Her father had told her that all she saw was the shimmer of buttons caught in the moonlight, but she knew better: the human sight grew worse as it aged, and when children grew into adults, they lost the ability to see the twisted things that waited with baited breath to snatch human life away.
Taking the chair from her desk had only solved her problems temporarily: the thing in the closet could no longer get out, but now a creature was lurking under her desk.
Angela had invited it in when she had moved her chair, she realised. She should have put one of her toys there, because toys could keep a small space of room safe from monsters. She'd forgotten, though, and now a strange thing hulked underneath the table. It only moved when it thought she wasn't paying attention, but she was. She could see it blur from the corner of her eye, but it always stilled when she let her eyes slip sideways to examine it closer.
There was the behemoth that took up the entire space underneath her bed, sometimes kicking against the wood till it shook and moaned. Angela always leapt off the bed when she ran for her parents. The bigger the distance between her and the thing there the better; it had huge tendrils that could sneak out and latch around her ankle if she didn't move away from it as fast as possible. It had eyes that glowed red in the dark, like those of a demon. It had winked at her once as she looked back, standing on the threshold of her room.
Her legs had given way, and she'd fallen against the doorpost with her head, crying out in pain and terror. Timothy had reached her first, and she'd clung to him like a barnacle as he rubbed her back. She hadn't dared tell him or her parents what had caused her to fall, because what if the monster would hurt them? Timothy was so big he was practically an adult, and that meant he couldn't see it; their parents certainly couldn't. What if her talking about it invited the monster into their bedrooms? She was pretty sure that monsters only went for children, but it still made her dreams troubled, her sleep fitful.
This only became worse when Teddy arrived. He was such a pretty baby, soft and full of movement whereas her doll was plastic and static. His eyes were midnight blue. The first time Angela had looked at them, she had fallen utterly in love with him.
The problem was that Teddy was only a little baby who couldn't even sit up without assistance. He could not walk, not even crawl. If a beast came for him, he was utterly helpless.
Angela had no doubt that her parents could fight monsters off, but what if they were too late? Their new bedroom was so much larger than the one in the flat, with so many more places for shadows to hide…
That monsters terrorized her was not pleasant, but she could handle that. The idea that they would move on and frighten Teddy was simply unbearable.
It won't do, she'd decided, I will have to fight these monsters. She had asked Sister Monica Joan to knit a vest for Cuthbert in grey wool. It was slightly crooked, but it would serve as a chain mail vest.
Tonight was the night she would defeat the monsters in her room.
After she'd said her prayers and her mother had tucked her in, kissing her forehead and tiptoeing out, Angela slipped from her bed and took her pouch of marbles from underneath her pillow. With Cuthbert around her neck – she had knotted his rabbit ears, and could slip him over her head as if he was a soft necklace –she quickly made a line of marbles from one side of the desk to the other, trapping the shadow there. It was a good thing it never moved whilst she looked at it; she didn't think she'd have the courage to trap it if it had shifted its shadowy self, not even with Cuthbert dangling from her throat, soft fur tickling her face.
The marbles were made of glass, and shone prettily because Angela had polished them with a handkerchief. Their swirls of colour were brilliant, and hypnotizing. Angela instinctively knew that the thing under her desk would be mesmerized by the intricate patterns, unable to tear his gaze away from them for as long as they were there, neatly lined up, just as she'd known instinctively that she had allowed the creature to live there because she'd moved her chair.
The beast under the bed was trickier. She didn't have enough marbles to encircle her bed, for one thing, and she doubted that the behemoth would be confused by glass orbs, even though their swirls of colours were entrancing.
Timothy had told her once that fairy creatures could not stand iron, and that it burned them. He had also given her his train set to play with. It was an expensive set, not made of wood, but out of metal. She didn't know if it was iron, and she didn't know if the demon was a fairy, or even remotely like one, but she'd decided to take her chances.
Now, with her heart humming in her chest and her breathing shallow, she started to lay the rails around her bed as fast as she could. Her fingers trembled very badly at first, making it hard to connect the pieces. She recited her evening's prayers in her head to calm herself, and after that, it went better.
She nearly cried when she felt something brush her chest, but it was only Cuthbert, sliding down from her back.
"Naughty Cuthbert," she told him, kissing his soft, expressionless face.
She was breathing hard and feeling sweaty by the time she was done, but also satisfied. Now these bad, bad creatures couldn't slip away, couldn't go to her parents' bedroom, couldn't…
The thing under the bed snarled.
Angela shrieked and sprinted to the door, flying through the hallway in record time, nearly running into her parents' bedroom door.
She stood frozen in front of it, hands curled into Cuthbert's grey chain mail vest.
A soft moan came from beyond the door, followed by something that sounded like a growl, and the rustling of bedsheets.
There's a beast in there, Angela thought. Strangely enough, the idea of monsters near Teddy no longer made her terrified. There was still fear, of course, but mainly grim determination. She had not just braved the shadow under her desk and the behemoth under the bed only for another demon to snatch Teddy away now.
Resolutely, she stood on tiptoes, and pressed the door handle down.
It didn't budge.
Oh, no, she thought. The thing could gather Teddy in its arms and fly out of the window, or merge in the shadows splayed on the wall, or escape through the floor…
"Mommy, daddy!" she cried out, hammering her little fists on the door. "Mommy, daddy, wake up! Wake up wake up wake up…"
The door opened, and she fell inside, into the arms of her mother.
"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" her mother asked, brushing Angela's hair out of her face.
"Are you ill?" her father asked, immediately feeling her forehead, checking her pulse.
Her parents looked scared, their breathing shallow and rapid, their faces flushed.
Teddy started mewling, little hands curling into fists.
"Oh, dear," her mother muttered, quickly leaving Angela to her father's strong arms so she could scoop the baby up.
Angela felt her body go slack with relief. Teddy was still here, and there was no monster in this room, not now that her parents were awake. Everyone knew that monsters feared parents a little, and would huddle in darkness if adults came in.
"Angela?" her father asked, forcing her to look at him.
"I thought I heard beasts in the bedroom," she murmured, slinging her arms around his neck, burying her face against his throat, even though his skin was rough and scratchy, very unlike that of her mother.
"Beasts in the bedroom?" her father asked, and chuckled softly. His chest rumbled with the sound.
"Only us, dearest," her mother said, rocking Teddy and shushing him. His mewling had quieted, and he only whimpered softly, unsatisfied with the rude interruption of his rest, but already slipping back into the arms of sleep.
"I heard such strange sounds…" Angela said.
"Did you?"
"Yes. It sounded like a wolf, like you always do when you read me fairy tales, daddy."
"Well, there's no wolf now," her mother said, unable to keep from smiling.
"Good," Angela whispered, feeling how sleep invaded her body, making her limbs feel delightfully heavy, her head full of cotton wool.
She had the firm belief, like most children her age, that there were monsters everywhere. For now, though, she had defeated those under her desk and bed, and those in her parents' bedroom, too.